A sorrowful see-eer
by Moahoa
Summary: Merlin tries to rescue an old lady that has been accused of using magic, though she doesn't seem to want to be saved. What does she have to say about his supposed great destiny? Read to find out.


**A sorrowful see-er**

''You are the boy who helped me cross the street.'' The statment was spoken in a broken sigh, barely above a wispher, that was just as powerful as it was sad, and it was oh so very heartbroken.

''I'm here- ''

''I know why you are here, young warlock, but I am to tell you that you shant bother.'' The voice wasn't angry, but firm and solid as the trunk of an acient oak. '' I wished you would not have come, you put yourself in grave danger, my boy.''

''I _can't_ stand by and watch you die.''

At this, the woman sighed. A raspy wheezing sound. ''I am afraid you have no choice. Now leave, before trouble finds you.''

''I know, but it's not fair. You have done nothing wrong... ''

''Death is always justified, it takes whom it pleases. Now I beg of you... leave.''

When the manservant did not budge, the woman was forced out of the shadows and into the light of the lone flame he'd brought.

He drew a short gasp at the sight of her scrawny form, it was so pitiful and tiny. Old, wrinkled and sunken-in from lack of food and water these past days. Bruises bloomed purple or in some fresher cases, red like a rash that covered her once pale skin. The worst part though, was the sadness and pain in her eyes. Those eyes, though wrinkled around the edges and blurry with unshed tears remained clear as the sky. Yet they were sad, so sad. They were the eyes of a woman who knew her fate.

A pitiful sight indeed.

Before the young magician could speak, could convince her that she could run, to give her hope, to give _him_ hope, she raised her hand in warning before drawing yet an other shaking breath.

''My dear Emrys.'' -he winced a bit at the sound of his true name, he still was not used to the sound of being called something so seemingly unfamiliar- '' Do not think you can change my mind. For these tears are not mine. They are yours. I warned you to leave, warlock, for you do not wish to hear what I have to say, it is better if you do not in fact. So once more I shall urge you to go, for if you stay much longer I am afraid that I will have to tell you. Do not be the fool I see.''

As much as he'd like to believe that this was all just talk, the ramblings of an old woman who knew she was dying, something in the back of his mind told hime to heed her warning. As usual, he did not listen to that voice.

When he did not go, the woman sunk to the ground, defeated. All the acient force he'd felt seemed to have left her. She had now once again partly fallen into shadow.

''It's so so saaad... '' The wispher echoed eerily in the silence and he was suddenly afraid to even breathe in fear of disrupting the suddenly very fragile atmosphere. He felt as a single breath could destroy her, turn her into nothing more than a pile of dust.

''Your... fate... '' -she breathed, while her eyebrows furrrowed in concentration.- ''To have such a great gift, such a sh- Oh, my boy. To never, to always. Alone, so alone.''

Sobs shook the old woman's body now.

Her bone-like fingers dug into her sides as she rocked back and forth. It seemed as if she was trying to keep herself from falling apart.

Not having come face to face with such a balant display of emotion before, the young warlock was at a loss. He did not know what to do, but he was obviously not the type of man that just watched. Instead he carefully reached out one of his own thin limbs, that in fair comparision seemed close to gigantic, in a trial of some form of consolation.

The woman grasped it tightly and rubbed it against the left side of her face on which he already could feel a black eye forming from previous abuse. Slowly, so very,very slowly, she looked up and stared at him with eyes wide in fear.

Those eerily blue eyes made his skin crawl again. So acient and wise, he had a strange feeling that this had to be eyes that had seen and could see things he couldn't even imagine. The brightness made them seem to be staring into his own soul, yet they were not filled with reverance and admiration, as he often found in lesser powerful beings. No these eyes, they were overflowing with pity. She pitied him.

A woman, tortured and persecuted for a 'sin', a gift she had been born with, pitied _him._

She drew a sharp gasp and a lone tear escaped. He drew back his hand as if he'd been burnt, but the woman didn't seem to notice.

Her face scrunched up even more and soon she was wailing and crying uncontrollably.

''Sooh... sad... I'm sorry, so sorry... Just... go... _please_.''

Her words seemed like nonsense and he realized that she was beyond saving. The torture must have ruined her sense. He was too late. Guilt ravaged his gut, but fear made him finally heed her words and bolt.

''That's right, HURRY. Arthur's looking for you... he needs you, Merlin.''

The last part made him stop and look back for a second. A stranger, knew his name, no not just his name, for some reason it felt like she knew so much more. He allowed himself to ponder, just a few seconds, just what she seemed to know, why she was so sad...

Then quickly wrote it off as insanity, not because it was rational, but simply because something about her sadness and pity made tears appear in his own eyes and ice freeze his veins. At this age, he did not understand. In fact, his care-free nature would repress the encounter fully.

The very same nature would allow him to remain good-natured and happy for a while longer. Just like his gift was also a curse, so was his care-free happy life.

For he would with time come to realize, that even though he had a great destiny, he had a cruel fate.


End file.
